Pass
by A Flame's Serenade
Summary: In her 'lost' journal, Queen Sparrow Beckett warns of a creature of malicious intent that she believes might rise after her death. When traces of this creature begin to appear in the time of the new Queen, the diary holder approaches her. She must gather the only friend she has left, hotshot ex-captain Benjamin Finn, and try to rebuild her country to fight it. Ben/Princess


**-Pass-**

**Summary: In her 'lost' journal, Queen Sparrow Beckett warns of a creature of malicious intent that she believes might rise after her rapidly approaching death. When traces of this creature begin to appear in the time of the new Queen, the diary holder approaches her. She must gather the only friend she has left, hotshot ex-captain Benjamin Finn, and try to rebuild her country to fight it. Ben/Queen, minor Sparrow/Reaver**

**A/N: This is my first Fable story. I'd like to thank atotalRPGfan, whose stories I stumbled upon, adored, and was inspired by.**

**Now, some notes.**

**This story takes place a year after the Crawler events. It mentions the Fable two storyline a few times, though it has quite a few AUish qualities, such as the Sparrow and Reaver events and more. Any changes made should be explained.**

**That said, I hope you enjoy.**

**I do not own Fable or any other copyrighted objects. I merely own this story.**

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**:Chapter one: Return:**

_-The final journal entry of Sparrow Beckett-_

_In Aurora, the Land of Nightmares, as it is quite accurately named, they like to say that if you pass away with great feelings of rage, hatred, sorrow, or betrayal, your spirit will become intertwined with these feelings and you will not be able to move on. You live, if it can be called living, on as a transparent being, hungering and lusting for what those of flesh have and you cannot. If this happens, there will be no hope for you._

_Your feelings begin to grow stronger, and they act as a beacon to creatures called the "Blood Reapers". They are ancient demons who use these developing feelings to manipulate your weakening mental state. They lure you in with promises of revenge, of life, whatever your soul craves for and will not reject, and then use you as an empty shell. You murder for them, and they collect the blood of your victims and leave your spirit behind. You are without hope of salvage, from what I have seen._

_The Aurorans know not of the Blood Reapers, for they were lost along ages of lore and suffering on their part. I had started investigating these creatures under suggestion from Theresa, and when I found traces of their stories, the Seer of the Spire passed on this information to me. They will not come in my time, and what their purpose is I do not know. She will not say._

_It will be harder than anything you've faced, my little Robin. I hope my journal falls into your hands so that you may receive this warning. Though I trust the man I have passed it to for holding, he seems to care not for good timing, or for keeping his word._

_You will be Albion's only hope. May you stay safe and be led into the light, Anna. And please, forgive me for what might happen when I pass._

* * *

**(The following scene is not entirely necessary for reading. It does, however, contain hints of Reaver/Sparrow, which is why I ask you to read only if you please. Should you dislike the couple, skip downwards.)**

* * *

The roars of the fireplace had died to a mere crackling as he finally finished reading, the dim light straining his eyes. For what seemed like the millionth time since it had been entrusted to him, he closed the worn journal and set it aside, a crystalline glass brought to his lips as he sipped at his wine.

"_Though I trust the man I have passed it to…_" He mused to himself, leaning back in his chair and watching the red liquid settle into his wine glass.

Even after all of these years, Reaver was not to understand that damned woman's thinking.

He parted his lips to accept more of the numbing liquid, fighting irritation. Perhaps it was this sheer stupidity or inability to properly judge a character that had sparkled whatever the hell she'd done to him.

_Love. _The very word made him scoff, his eyes glancing off with disinterest. He was the Great Reaver. He wasn't the type made for love. He'd listen to people say that a woman would one day bring him to his knees and laughed to himself. He would not be on his knees for a woman, no, that was her place. And he would enjoy the luxuries that she could produce in such a position.  
A coy smile reappeared on his face as he sipped from the glass again. At least, until his gaze once again fell to the ratty old book. Sparrow had forced her way in either way, the sneaky little bitch, and he had often considered killing her himself just to have done with it. But something had stopped him. As much as he hated her, he also… had grown slightly fond of her? He refused to admit it was anything close to love. She'd just known the right places to poke.

In that same manner, something had kept him from throwing the journal into the flames and burning it to hell, despite his desire to be rid of her for good. The infuriating woman wouldn't leave him alone, even after death. He speculated it was because the looped, tight lettering was hers. Quite elegant for a girl who'd grown up in the filthy streets of Bowerstone followed by the even filthier Gypsy camps.

The very thought always made him sick to his stomach, and he dropped his glass to the floor, hearing it shatter on contact. If this was love, he despised the feelings. Perhaps, _out of his good nature_, he'd begin to shoot the poor fools who thought they needed to be at each other's sides at every single moment of the day, sparing them of this sickeningly sweet feeling.

He chuckled slightly as he crossed one leg over the other.

"If I could die, I'd be in quite the bit of trouble, wouldn't I, my little Sparrow?" He asked to no one in particular, eyes situated on the wall. "A deep hatred…"

* * *

_A set of hands, surprisingly delicate despite the long fights they had endured, cradled his cheeks, the slender thumb running over the stubble of his chin and cheeks._

_"It's gotten longer," She whispered in between their hungry kisses, and his own hands quickly pinned her closer to the wall._

_"Mm?" He murmured against her skin, as he pressed kisses along her jaw. She absentmindedly ran her fingers through his mess of blonde locks instead, a smile settling on her features._

_"It's nice." She breathed, as his lips met hers again. His hands began to slide down her hips to her thighs, his lips curling into a smile against her own-_

And then, Ben Finn woke up to a bunch of sloppy, slobbery kisses.

From a very friendly dog.

"Zeth, I was having a very good dream you know." He informed the grey furred dog, who merely barked lightly in reply, hopping down from the bed with a rapidly wiggling tail. Zeth had been his companion for the last year in his travels outside of Albion, forced upon him by the Queen, "_to keep you safe._"

"You're more damn trouble than protective, aren't you?" He joked to the dog, getting a yap in response as the dog stretched out his body. It was early – as he glanced at the window, Ben only saw faint traces of sunlight. Running a hand through his hair, he stood from the messy bed, scowling as the cold floors sent a chill up his spine.

The dog scratched at the door furiously, trying to get Ben to let him out, but the blonde rolled his eyes and moved about the room, collecting the clothes he'd discarded quickly in a rush to get to bed the night before.

"I have to get dressed first, Zeth," He said, pulling a plain white button up on. It was a bit big, but the loose cloth clung to his muscles while keeping his comfort, and he liked it, even if it looked a bit too casual for his plans of the day.

His eyes moved to the window again, as the sun began to appear a little brighter. Voices were beginning to be heard from the rooms beside him and from the ground floor, as people who had work to attend to began to shuffle around before they shoved off. It had been a while since he'd gotten up this early, and his body was protesting, but he forced his boots on anyhow and patted the dog's head.  
"Right then, I'm ready." He pulled the door open, and was nearly knocked over as Zeth bounded past him eagerly. He could hear angry protesting and figured that he wasn't the only one. Sheepishly, he apologized to a man who had started to complain, glaring at the dog as they left the Inn.  
"Protect me, huh? What was Lisey thinking?" He said, partly amused, as the dog growled quietly to himself. "All you do is get me in trouble. If I ever got into a fight, it was your fault."

They began to make their way down the trashed streets of Industrial, and he watched people began to poke out of the tiny houses, spilling into the streets as they prepared for the day. Ben wondered how many of these people would also be heading to the castle to see their Queen. She'd been quite the popular one when he'd left, after all, especially among the men. There'd been crowds at the castle simply to hear her speak, even if she'd been inexperienced.

Zeth seemed to know what they were planning, despite the fact that he was a mere dog; he was prancing around cheerfully, yapping at absolutely nothing. It was drawing quite a few looks to them, but no one seemed to recognize him and approach, which he was pleased with, for it kept him from wasting any time.

"I've got to get you off my hands after all, don't I?" He questioned the dog with a smirk as he ruffled the grey fur, getting a playful bite to the hand in return. Wiping his hand on his trousers, he chuckled.

The sun was already high in the sky before Ben arrived, as he had been forced to chance the troublesome dog down too many side streets to count as he'd chased after anyone carrying food.

_Lisey made it look so easy, putting up with this mutt. _He heaved a sigh, his eyes flickering around dangerously as they approached the castle. He hadn't been around enough that his face would be familiar to the guards. It would take sneaky maneuvering on his part to get inside.

* * *

"Says his name is Finn – Ben Finn. Here to see the Queen."

There was silence for a moment, as the older of the two men, the trustworthy old general of Queen Annalise's royal army, regarded the blonde carefully situated on a teetering wooden stool apprehensively. He had bright, boyish blue eyes that held traces of boredom despite the fact that he was locked away in a cell – as if he had been caught attempting to sneak into the bedchambers of Albion's ruler plenty of times before. He watched the man's chapped lips pull into a rugged smirk. _Ben Finn was a close friend of the Queen's. Had he really been her friend, why had he tried to sneak in?_

Well, anyone who personally knew Ben knew also that he was far from prone to rational thinking, but Letholus Abbey was not of Ben's time.

"Caught 'im sneaking around 'er windows." The man continued, glancing up momentarily from the paperwork he was filling out. "Prob'ly tryin' to get in to score wit' 'er, like the rest of 'is lot."

Ben snorted slightly, but both the general and the soldier ignored him.

"What do ya want me to do wit' 'im?" The man said finally, gesturing to Ben.

"_I say we let him go free. Seems like a right fine lad to me_." Ben said gruffly in a voice not his own, sighing when they both ignored him. "C'mon lads. Isn't any fun when you act all stuffy."

"Maybe we should just let 'im off the 'ook?" Ben nodded eagerly at this, his soaked hair falling into his eyes yet again. _One of the maids dropped water on him from a higher up ledge. _The general mused. _I suspect that's the only reason he was caught, much too distracted by this._

"If we let him off the hook, we aren't doing our job properly. Perhaps we leave him in the dungeons." General Abbey watched the man's eyes glint with slight frustration.

_Where's that damned dog when you need him?_ Ben thought irritably, the stool teetering back abruptly and nearly causing him to fall off.

"Come on now, now harm no foul," He tried again, and the man's moustache twitched lightly as his lips began to quirk into a faint smirk.

"You tried to sneak into the royal bedchambers." Abbey said, amusement evident. It proved to further Ben's annoyance. "What did you think was going to happen, Mr. Finn?"  
"Well, I was hoping to get in. Unfortunately, the lovely girl on the second floor accidentally dropped her jug while watering some flowerpots, and soaked my-" Abbey cleared his throat, silencing the other man's explanation of previous events.  
"We don't need a story of your life," The soldier who had returned to his paper work mumbled, and Ben flashed a grin.  
"Oh, my life is far more interesting than this, if you're interested. I've got a biography I've been working on, though the pages are admittedly scattered. Left 'em when I got distracted or rushed off, you see." The general rubbed his temples. Only a few moments in the man's presence and he was infuriating, trying to be smart about everything.

"We'll leave him in the cell until the Queen has time to confirm his identity." He decided, and Ben gaped.

"Lisey's the bloody Queen!" He protested, jumping to his feet. "That could take days!"

"Well, you're quite the funny man, aren't you Mr. Finn. I'm sure you can find some way to entertain yourself." The two men shared a look; Ben's a glare and Abbey's triumphant, before the general stalked out, leaving the blonde to sit back down with a heavy sigh.

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I** guess I have to end it here before I get out of control. Slow chapter, but it'll build up pretty soon. Right now, we see the return of Ben Finn, and next chapter, we get to see the changes in our fair Queen.**

**Anyways! I hope you enjoyed! I'll get the next chapter up as soon as possible!**

**Constructive criticism would be nice, as well. x**


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